Odd beautiful flowers, that will always make me think of my grandfather, (he used to grow them, not because he was pink coloured and slightly furry.)
What is it?
The Monkeys whispered. First to each other with small frowns on their faces and then turning to me in a much louder tone.
WHAT IS IT?!
That my sweet children, is something I never thought you would see. Something I had sheltered you from in your first innocent years. A ‘thing’ that so very rarely darkens our doorstep, there had not been a need within their collective memories to have ever cast their eyes over such a contraption. That my children…
That, is an iron.
Oh… and off they went.
I’ll say it now and I’ll say it proud. I am not an ironer, (unless absolutely, positively necessary.) Ironing is up there with sifting. Usually I can find some way around not doing it. I think there may be an iron at the back of the under-the-sink cupboard….maybe. Definitely no ironing board though. One would take up far too much valuable space in a flat, and I’d probably feel inclined to decorate it with whimsical fairy lights.
So The Monkeys got their first sight of an iron, and why was it up? I was in the middle of my first bit of quilting. My first ever baby step in to the land of quilt. Easter long weekend and we were not home. Instead I had access to some really large floor space, (for laying out) a permanantly positioned sewing machine (and over locker) and distractions for the boys. This quilt was not something I had rushed into. Over quite a few months, pieces had been cut out, patterns played with, much fiddling of fabrics had been done, just not at home. No time, nor space at home so if I didn’t get it finished this time, it would probably be another 6 months.
Not one for patience, and with a bucket load of enthusiasm under my belt, the kids were banished and I set forth.
Now to be upfront, me and sewing haven’t always been friends. There is enthusiasm for it, especially since having kids. I’ve got a machine, but it doesn’t come naturally to me. It’s hard work for this brain to work out which piece I’m supposed to be sewing. I don’t do it that often as it’s a royal pain to set it all up, do 5 minutes before little people come and ‘help’, finally get in the zone of it all and then have to pack it all away.
So a long weekend of sewing was planned, and a quilt none the less. Well that’s what I had planned anyway. Time raced by, and in my greedy need for wanting to take something home to be used straight away, it ended up being a doona cover. Not an exciting title is it… doona cover. But it’s mine, it’s patch work, I did every little piece. Miraculously there are no gaping holes, and a whole lot of it was made out of sample fabrics. (Got to love the thriftyness of patchwork.) As The Monkeys hollered for dinner and I whirred away on with my little foot peddle, I even got some pillow cases made.
I was having so much fun with the sewing machine. The ball was finally rolling again and I so wanted to do more, but my time was up. Those matching sailor suits for The Monkeys made from retro curtain fabric?… maybe next time.